


Faithful Unto...

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anger, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Police Brutality, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, Foggy is angry that Matt has been shot, period, but what makes him even angrier is that Matt was shot by a cop. And it was Matt who was shot, not Daredevil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithful Unto...

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at the meme, because I can never resist angst.  
> http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/5006.html?thread=10169230#cmt10169230

Foggy couldn't believe it.

Matt had been shot.

Okay, he could believe that, since he was pretty sure Matt had been shot before. But that was as Daredevil. This time? It was Matt who got shot.

 

And Foggy was _pissed._

 

Mostly because Matt had been shot by a cop.

 

* * *

 

The story was all over the news by the time Foggy got to the hospital. Claire called him, because it just figured she was on shift when Matt was brought in. It was probably a surprise for her to see him being brought in like a normal patient, not limping in her window in the middle of the night, or getting a call summoning her to his apartment.

 

Plus, she probably figured it would be really shitty for him to find out when he flipped on a TV, because how many blind men were there in Hell's Kitchen really? Not enough for it to be a coincidence.

 

Staring at the tiny monitor bolted to the wall, which kept showing grainy footage from a cell phone camera of the incident, as it was being called, Foggy considered getting new friends.

 

But Matt _wasn't_ Daredevil. It would make a lot more sense if Daredevil had been the one to get shot. Even if the mood towards him had changed in recent months since Fisk had gone away, Daredevil was still a vigilante, and there were no doubt a few dirty cops left.

But what reason could anyone have for shooting a blind man, alone at night with no weapons?

 

A horrible thought occurred to Foggy, as the cell phone footage played again, and he could make out Matt holding his hands up, his cane dangling from one wrist.

They thought he had a weapon.

 

Foggy was fuming. How could anyone, even in the dark, mistake a reflective white and red cane for a weapon? And even if they thought he had a weapon, why did they jump straight to shooting him? Arresting, sure, even tasing he would understand, but Matt had been shot with a bullet. It had ripped right through him.

He tried not to think about that part, because all he could imagine was the blood, everywhere, worse than it had been when he found Matt in his apartment that night.

 

He hadn't even been able to see Matt in the ER. By the time Foggy got to the hospital, Matt had been taken off to surgery, the only sign that he had ever been there was discarded gloves, dried blood, and the remains of one of his shirts. They must have cut it off him.

 

Claire hadn't been able to tell him much before having to run off to attend to other patients. The ER was full of them, some only needing a prescription, others needing much more than any hospital could provide. Some of them would die before dawn.

Foggy prayed that Matt wouldn't be one of them.

 

Claire did manage to tell him the gunshot wound was to the abdomen. That was somewhat reassuring. It wasn't as bad as one to the chest, or god forbid, the head.

Of course, it also wasn't the same as being shot in the leg or the shoulder.

But then there were also important things in those areas, so Foggy didn't know.

 

Karen. He should probably call her. But Foggy also didn't want to make her come and wait in this terrible tiny room with him, watching footage of Matt being shot, over and over. She would only get anxious and pace and talk and get angry, and Foggy couldn't deal with that right now.

 

Besides, she'd said she was going home to sleep hours and hours ago, and Foggy hoped that's what she did, because she was looking exhausted. Pulling long hours at the office, even when they both told her she wasn't needed to stay. It was almost like she was looking for an excuse not to go home. But that afternoon she'd looked dead on her feet, and didn't even need to be told to go home and sleep.

Foggy just hoped she was sleeping right through the entire mess, and hadn't stopped to turn on the television before turning in.

Of course, then he'd have about 50 texts and 15 missed calls, so. It was safe to bet Karen didn't know what was happening.

 

Watching the footage one more time, seeing the exact moment when the gun fired, Matt startled, fell to the ground, Foggy'd had enough. He dragged one of the chairs underneath the TV and stood on it, pressing at the side for anything to make it stop, changing the channel, turning it off, he didn't care anymore.

 

“The nurses have the only remote,” someone behind him said.

Foggy didn't fall off the chair, but it was close. He spun gracefully to see a woman in the doorway, wearing scrubs. Doctor? Nurse?

“I couldn't watch it anymore,” he muttered.

She nodded. “Are you here for Matthew Murdock?”

Foggy nodded. “Is he out of surgery?”

“He's in recovery now. I performed the surgery. You have medical proxy and I'm told you're also his next of kin, so I can answer any questions you may have.”

“Is he okay?” Foggy asked immediately.

_Of course he's okay, she would have started with that if he wasn't, and they don't send dead people to recovery. It means he's recovering, duh._

She nodded. “He's stable now.”

Foggy jumped off the chair. “Can I see him?”

She nodded again. “Give him about half an hour, and we can get you in there to sit with him.”

“And surgery? How did it go?”

“It wasn't complicated. The bullet entered through the right upper side of his abdomen,” she pointed to a spot on her own stomach, “and exited out the back, around the same spot. The most concerning thing was damage to the liver, because it tends to bleed a lot. But we managed to stop the bleeding, even though we had to take out part of his liver. The good part is that the liver will regenerate that tissue. He's also had blood transfusions to make up for the blood he lost.”

Foggy nodded. He had more than a basic understanding of anatomy now that he'd found out about his best friend's nighttime activities. Claire was teaching him how to suture in her limited spare time, and Foggy had taken some... questionable first aid courses.

“Is he breathing on his own?”

She smiled. “Yes he is. The sedation should be wearing off soon.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, you know what, let's just go see him now. He might not be awake yet, but it would be good for him to see a familiar face when he wakes up.”

Foggy let out a strangled laugh, and the doctor looked at him strangely.

“Matt's blind actually.”

“Oh,” she said, pausing before opening the door. “Well, I'm sure your presence will still be a comfort.”

 

More than she could possibly know.

 

* * *

 

Matt didn't look entirely like shit when Foggy saw him, which was more than he could say about the last time he'd been seriously injured. Of course, the being in the hospital with actual doctors and drugs and blood and medical supplies was likely a major factor in that.

 

“He shouldn't be waking up for a bit yet, but if he does, let us know,” she told Foggy, pointing out the call button, and pressing a button on the monitor before leaving the two of them alone.

 

Things didn't look too bad. Matt only had the one IV line, although there were bandages covering parts of his inner arm and hand, so there could have been more before. A glance at the monitor told him that Matt's heart rate was good, and so was his blood pressure, respiration rate, and oxygen saturation. He was still on oxygen, but Foggy figured that was a post-op thing.

 

A blanket was pulled up to Matt's chest, part of a gown visible above that. Foggy had seen one drainage tube when he walked it, although it didn't seem to be doing very much, which was fine with him.

 

A quick check of Matt's hand told Foggy it was cold, and he decided to remedy that by holding it. In the interests of Matt's health of course.

 

* * *

 

Matt's eyes fluttered open first, and Foggy wondered just how disorienting it was for him to wake up somewhere so unfamiliar.

“Hey Matty,” he said softly, squeezing one of his hands tighter.

Matt blinked a couple more times then licked his lips.

“Foggy?” he whispered.

“Yeah Matty, it's me. It's okay. You're in the hospital, but you're okay. Does anything hurt? Do you need pain meds or anything?”

Matt frowned. “Yes. It hurts.” He tilted his head a bit. “Foggy, it hurts. What happened?”

Foggy pressed the call button and turned his attention back to his friend.

“You were shot a little bit buddy,” he said truthfully. Matt would be able to tell if he was lying. Actually, maybe not in this state.

“It's a secret,” Matt whispered loudly, looking panicked.

“No, no, not like that. The police thought your cane was a weapon. You were shot Matty,” Foggy said meaningfully, hoping he understood what that meant.

Matt frowned again. “How can you get shot a little bit?”

Foggy rolled his eyes. Trust Matt to be arguing about semantics while he was still half sedated and doped up on pain meds.

“You were shot, but now you're fine. You had surgery and you're all patched up.”

“Claire?” he asked.

“No, not by Claire. Well, Claire was there in the ER. Do you remember that?”

Matt scrunched up his face, and it's adorable, like a bunny or some other adorable animal, but he didn't seem to get anywhere with it. “You know what, it doesn't matter. You're in the hospital, remember?”

“Hospital,” Matt repeated dutifully. He scrunched his face up again. “I heard gunshots,” he muttered.

“Right, and you ran towards them. Of course.” Foggy sighed.

“Helping,” Matt protested.

Foggy shook his head. His stupid blind brave best friend.

“Maybe next time, leave it to the professionals,” he suggested.

Not that they were entirely professional, considering they'd shot an unarmed man, but Foggy was more concerned about Matt's safety at the moment than anything else.

Matt frowned and considered it.

 

Foggy spotted the nurse rounding the corner. “Look, the nurse is going to check you over, so behave okay. I'll be right outside,” he added, because there are a lot of medical things that Foggy does not want to be exposed to. There's a reason he became a lawyer instead of a butcher.

 

“It shouldn't be more than ten minutes, and after that we can move him to a different ward,” the nurse told him. Her scrubs had Avengers on them, and Foggy mourned for a minute that Matt couldn't see them.

He nodded his thanks at her, and slipped out into the hallway.

 

He didn't go far, just to a washroom around the corner to splash water on his face and stare at himself in the mirror. He's not sure what he was looking for.

When he emerged, he spotted a flash of navy blue at the other end of the hall, and heard whispers of a conversation about someone being shot. He gravitated towards it, whether out of stupidity or something else, he didn't know.

 

He should have known that they were there for a reason, and that it was an awful idea to approach them, but he still did it.

The man turned around at the sound of his footsteps.

After hours of watching the same footage over and over, there was no way Foggy couldn't have recognized him.

 

“You,” Foggy hissed. “You were the one who shot him.”

The cop paled. He couldn't have been any older than thirty. Foggy checked his lapel. Not from the fifteenth, thank god. He'd hoped Brett worked with people better than that.

 

“It was an active crime scene-” the other cops began, and the first one nodded along with him.

“I don't care! You had no evidence that the perp even hung around, and really, why would they? You fired upon an unarmed disabled man who had no idea was what going on, because you didn't even identify yourselves to him. For all he knew, this was a mugging.”

Okay, it wasn't entirely true. Matt would have been able to tell they were cops, however he did things. Maybe he could hear their badges or smell their shoes or something, Foggy had no idea how it worked, but that wasn't the point.

“We will be suing,” Foggy continued, before either of them could say anything. “And you'd better pray that he makes it through this okay. He will be kinder on you in court. I will tear you to shreds,” Foggy growled.

 

He turned and stalked away, enjoying the silence left in his wake.

 

* * *

 

When he got back to Matt's little cubicle, he was sitting up a bit more. Foggy passed the nurse on his way in.

“I heard that,” Matt muttered as soon as the nurse was out of earshot.

“None of it was a lie,” Foggy replied.

Matt tilted his head and looked in Foggy's direction. Without his glasses on, he looked younger, and you could tell his gaze was unfocused. “No,” he agreed after a moment.

“Why, do you not want me to sue them?” Foggy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because with all due respect Matty, even if you don't want me to, I'm going to, because you're my best friend and they hurt you.”

Matt smiled, wide and unfamiliar across his face.

“You're the best avocado,” he said.

“Damn right I am,” Foggy replied, sitting back down beside Matt. “Did she give you more pain meds.”

“So many meds,” Matt said seriously. “All the meds.”

Foggy nodded. “I can tell buddy.”

Matt beamed.

“You just get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up, wherever that may be.”

Matt closed his eyes, squirming a bit in the bed. The sheets were probably rough on his skin, Foggy realized, and made a note to ask Karen to bring other blankets when she came later. Which reminded him he still had to text her.

 

Matt settled though, making contented noises, despite the pain he must have felt in his side. All the meds indeed.

He reached out for Foggy's hand, and found it on the first go.

Foggy squeezed back, noting that Matt's fingers were still a bit chilly, and began making plans for the deposition.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The motto of the NYPD is 'faithful unto death', which is where the title comes from.


End file.
